


These Memories Could Never Leave Your Eyes

by silentmoon746



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, I didn't go with 9 Heart Ending, Mutual Pining, Not very good at sex scenes so I just added alot of feelings, OC farmer - Freeform, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Slight Subversion in Story, Vaginal Sex, made my own
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:26:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23077768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentmoon746/pseuds/silentmoon746
Summary: "She was late.For the past year and more, she’d been there, every Friday. Ordering pizza with him, laughing at jokes that made no sense. Being beside him. She listened as he talked about therapy, about the AA meetings he was going to. With her there, he could go home, sober and wake the next day without a headache, without fear of going to work at JoJo’s."Shane has been keeping himself quiet about his feelings for the local farmer. But when she doesn't show up one night like usual, it isn't long before all those emotions bottled up begin to pour out.
Relationships: Shane (Stardew Valley)/Original Female Character(s), Shane/Female Player (Stardew Valley)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 215





	These Memories Could Never Leave Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! It's been a very long time since I've posted any fanfics publicly. Not since the days of "that" site. Please go easy. And enjoy!

She was late. 

  
Shane leaned against the wall of the tavern, slowly sipping at the Jojo Cola that was slowly going flat as he waited. He glanced at the clock over the bar, saw it was close to almost 9:30. And in seeing this, his stomach twisted uncomfortably.

  
She was most definitely late.

  
Perhaps, a voice in his head whispered, she just isn’t coming.

  
Which was likely, Shane concluded. She was often busy. The farm itself kept her busy at all hours of the day. Tending all the animals, and plants, the land tilled and soil spread. He’d seen her once or twice, while passing by, tending those fields. 

  
Up until the day she had moved into the sleepy town of Stardew Valley, the Desmond Farm had been a wreck. The land not fit for any sort of farming, filled with overgrown shrubs and wild grass. Trees that had been left to fend for themselves over the years.

  
Truth be told, Shane had felt a great deal of pity for the farmland. Marnie had told him once that the old man who had lived and died there had worked that field till his last breath. 

  
He wondered what ever gave a man that much determination. Had wondered why anyone would do such a thing, especially in the sleepy town of Stardew Valley.

  
The sun had been unbearably hot, summer being at its fullest. He’d been off from work, but the idea of being in the house with Marnie and Jas at the time had made his head and stomach revolt. He’d drunk too much the night before and was regretting it. The argument with Marnie hadn’t helped much either. So, he’d left. Decided to take a walk and try not to hate everything.

  
So far, it wasn’t working.

  
_The heat was causing him to sweat fiercely, his blue sweatshirt growing damp even as he moved to take it off. He couldn’t say what had caught his attention as he passed the path to the Desmond Farm. Maybe it was the sound of chickens clucking loudly. Or the laugh that echoed._

  
_Before he knew it, his feet were moving in that direction._

  
_As he passed the pond, which had been weeded and cleaned since last he’d visited, he saw her._

  
_The sun beamed down behind her, causing nothing but a shadow in his vision. She wore a tank top today, as opposed to her usual black t-shirt, which left those arms on display. They shifted as she swung down her hoe, breaking the hard earth below. A satisfying crack, and he heard her grunt as she lifted again. There were pools of sweat on her brow and chest, and unlike on himself, it gleamed._

  
_Her hair, so bright and gold in the sun, was tied back in a braid that swung as she bent to pick up a stone from the earth. She stood to chuck it away and caught his eye._   
_Shane had been caught. And what was worse, he had been caught gawking and staring at the new farmer._

  
_A silence hung between them, a tension._

  
_And then, she’d smiled. Shane felt his heart tighten. And he wanted._

  
He hadn’t acted on it, he remembered. Had nearly run away at that beautiful woman, but she had waved at him, had struck up a conversation like it was the usual. It hadn’t been.

  
As far as he could figure, up to that point he’d done nothing but be rude to her. Scorn and scowl at her every move, because she was new, and she was beautiful, strong and confident. And Shane was not.

  
He glanced up again at the clock, 9:50 now, and pretty soon he’d have to leave. He gazed once more at the entrance, hoping to see it open and have her walk in, flustered and apologetic.

  
Normally, she’d have been here hours ago.

  
_After the incident on the farm, she’d taken to coming to the tavern every Friday night. Most of the town did, as it was a popular night to go out drinking for many, but she’d never done so before. He’d been so confused, when she’d walked in all smiles and cheerful waves to the townspeople she’d just barely gotten to know. He watched her as she scanned the room, and almost jumped in his seat when her eyes met his. Almost fled when they held._

  
_Then she’d smiled, and his heart raced as she began to walk his direction._

  
_“Shane,” she’d said, grinning from ear to ear. She was in her usual black tonight it seemed, but her hair was once again in that intricate braid. She’d done up her face too, if he wasn’t mistaken. She looked wonderful._

  
_But he said nothing, just took another drag of beer._

  
_His silence did not deter her though, as it never seemed to, as she sat down on the stool next to him. She gestured over to Emily for a beer, was swiftly handed one._   
_Then she’d started to talk to him._

  
From that day on, every Friday night, without fail, she would appear at 7:00 sharp, and would sit till 9:30 with him, drinking and talking away.

  
It was hard some nights, he knew, because often times he was in a dark place and was horrible to her, cursing her under his breath at her entrance and ignoring her all-night long. But she never stopped, not once from smiling at him. 

  
And on nights when he did feel like talking, she listened. Just listened, quietly taking in every word he said. 

  
Shane knew he loved her. Knew he would do anything for her. But couldn’t get the words out of his drunk mouth.

  
Then the night on the cliff. 

  
He shuddered to himself, crushing the can in his hand. He got up, mood soured and dark, and decided to crawl his way back to the house. 

  
The night on the cliff, when he’d almost….

  
_She’d been there. Had sat beside him. There had been no smile on her face then. No pity either. He ranted and raved, threatened and cried. She had cried with him. Even in the rain he recognized tears as they fell down those sun pinked cheeks._

  
_He’d wanted to jump for that alone._

  
_“Tell me,” he’d mumbled, unable to move, “Tell me why I shouldn’t roll of this cliff.”_

  
_In the quiet of rain, the thunder above he’d caught her eyes. Beautiful sky-blue eyes that sparkled with tears and sadness. Beautiful eyes that held his without fear. Her voice echoed in his brain, shattering him to a million pieces._

  
_“I’d miss you.”_

  
He’d taken her hand, had given her that trust, and let her lead him to where he never wanted to go. 

  
Recovery. 

  
Shane walked solemnly down the path to Marnie’s house. It was Fall now, and the leaves crunched happily beneath his sneakers. He stepped on each one, considered the sound a personal victory, and thought of her.

  
Why hadn’t she been there?

  
For the past year and more, she’d been there, every Friday. Ordering pizza with him, laughing at jokes that made no sense. Being beside him. She listened as he talked about therapy, about the AA meetings he was going to. With her there, he could go home, sober and wake the next day without a headache, without fear of going to work at JoJo’s. 

  
_He recalled, one particular night, during the heat of summer once again. From the state of her dress, the tank top, the combat boots, the dirt smeared on her face, and dust coating her palms, and dare he say the slime that stained her jeans, it was clear she’d been in the mines._

  
_She’d looked exhausted. The smile and wave she gave to the Mayor, to Emily, to Willy, was not as bright. He’d ordered her a beer himself. She’d leaned against him, head on his shoulder._

  
_He’d wanted to reach out and touch her, stroke her hair, her cheek. Instead there was only white knuckles on the handle of the glass._

  
_“Shane,” she’d whispered, stifling a yawn._

  
_“Yeah?”_   
_“You smell good.”_

  
_The glass could have shattered in his grip. His gaze had fallen down to her, but those sky eyes were closed. She sighed, nuzzled against his neck, and he felt himself harden painfully at the feeling of hot breath against his skin._

  
_“What? You sure you aren’t drunk?”_

  
_“No,” she mumbled, “Not drunk.“_

  
_She sighed again, a content little sound that caused him to snap just slightly. He let go of the glass, reached for her chin. Her eyes opened, and chapped lips parted just so. He wanted her. Wanted to taste her. He bet she tasted like apples. Crisp, and tart, but sweet. He leaned down, felt her straighten._

  
_The sound of the juke box stuttering had jolted them back to reality. They’d jumped apart, both blushing brightly in the poor light. The sound of laughter and talk filling their world again._

  
Shane remembered she’d laughed, nervous, before smiling at him, and standing to leave. Claimed she must smell. He wanted to tell her she’d smelled wonderful. That he loved the way she smelled, looked. But all that came out was a grunt, and later a good bye, as she walked away, back to her farm.  
He’d had taken himself in hand that night, cursed Yoba, seeing her in his head, underneath him, over him. 

  
When dawn came, and he awoke to the sound of Jas and Marnie up and about, he cursed again. Guilt was a deciding factor in him not moving that whole day.

  
Shane came to a stop outside the front door to Marnie’s house. It was well after 10 at this point and he really should be going to bed. It would be better for everybody if she’d just decided to stop seeing him.

  
He didn’t deserve it. Didn’t deserve her.

  
His hand reached for the handle of the door when a sound caused him to yelp. A quiet meow. He swore as he turned to gaze at a pair of bright gold eyes on the road beside him. Recognized them almost immediately.

  
“Cal, you scared the shit out of me.”

  
He moved over, bent to pet the orange feline. The cat often wandered down from the Desmond Farm on warm nights, and sometimes he’d seen it fishing for itself at the lake. Over time, he’d gotten the feline to trust him enough to let him pet and scratch its ears.

  
He knew that the cat was hers and that she adored it. As much as it adored her.

  
Cal sniffed at his fingers as he reached out to him. Normally the cat would then rub its head against his palm, giving permission. But this time, he stepped back, turned around, began to walk away. Confused, Shane stood up again. Then it turned its head, bright gold eyes staring right at him. Beckoning him to follow.

  
Shane couldn’t have figured why, but he knew something was wrong.

  
Cal took off, running up the path, towards the farm. Shane felt his legs move before his head could comprehend it and was chasing after him. He rushed past the pond, the well-cut grass, and trimmed trees. As he burst past the pens he heard the animals clucking, mooing, worry in their every sound. He’d never heard them like that before. He stopped, looking around in the dark, panting, and cursing a lack of exercise, before another meow caught his ears. He saw, beside the cabin, the path leading up towards Robin’s, Cal stood, staring at him.

  
He sped up, running to follow the sleek feline’s steps.

  
Up that path, in the dark of night, the chill of the air hit him, and he shivered. He saw then those bright eyes in the dark, sitting on the center of the path.  
He walked closer, cautious. Then he saw the shadow on the ground, and he felt his heart jump in panic.

  
“Ash” he whispered, frozen in fear. Was she…? No.

  
He made his body move, made himself think, and rushed to her side, sliding onto the dirt.

  
“Ash,” he repeated louder, shaking her shoulders, her back. She was on her front, face to the side, thankfully. He noted that when he brushed her shoulder, he felt skin. Tank-top, though it was too dark to see properly. He felt downwards, brushed her cargo pants and knew her combat boots would be there too. He saw a glint of a sword beside her on the dirt and knew.

  
She’d come from the mines. She’d been hurt. He reached down, felt over her back. Nothing there. He ran hands over her noting no wounds along her back end, thighs or calves. 

  
Reaching down, he grabbed her gently. He tried to roll her, grunted when he realized she was very much muscle mass. Of course, he cursed himself, she’s stronger than she looks, and she looked strong. Working in the field and mines had that effect he mused. He bent down, reaching across her back to get a better grip this time. He breathed out, inhaled and pulled as hard as he could. She turned with him this time, and landed on his lap, limp against his stomach. 

  
“Come on, Ash, come on.”

  
Shane bit his lip, felt his heart trip when she moved not a muscle. He gripped her tighter, pulling her closer to his chest. In the moonlight, just the flash of it he saw a streak against her unconscious face.

  
Blood.

  
Swearing, Shane cradled the face closer to his chest, looking around desperately for something, someone, to help him. Help her. It was only him. Shane and the cat. Cal sat across from them, eyes unblinking at their master’s limp form. Shane licked his dry lips, shivered at the cold, and stared down again at the unconscious face of the woman he loved.

  
He loved her. And by Yoba, he was going to protect her.

  
Shane reached down, gathering her closer into his arms. He just had to balance correctly and maybe, just maybe he’d be able to carry her. He just needed to think this through.  
Shifting, he tried to maneuver her over his shoulder, but found after trying to stand, and promptly falling on his butt, that his knees couldn’t get under him to lift up. He gritted his teeth, and brought her back to his arms, and in an attempt to bridal style carry her, fell forward and almost knocked her head against the ground. He swore as he caught her just in time.

  
The small voice in the back of his head began to whisper as he stared at her. Murmuring his shortcomings, his weak arms, how he would never be able to lift her.   
He knew that voice well, attempted to shut it out, but could feel the dread come through. He couldn’t do it, not really.

  
He glanced away and back at her face, ashamed even though her eyes were not on him at all. 

  
_“You weigh nothing at all.”_

  
He paused, a memory rushing back to him. The memory of a warm back, and strong arms. The scent of golden hair pressed against his face. He remembered.

  
_Newly into their friendship, on a night where he’d been too drunk to walk. He’d forgotten how many beers he’d had that night in the tavern, but knew it was one too many. Still, she hadn’t stopped him, hadn’t pressured him. She’d listened to him and talked to him as if he wasn’t steadily falling deeper into darkness._

  
_But when closing had come, he’d soon realized walking home wasn’t going to be an option at that time. He must have looked a fool, falling flat on the ground outside the doors, having only ever gotten that far. He’d resigned himself to sleeping the drink off right there, cooled by the dirt underneath his cheek, when he felt the warm worn hand brush the hair from his forehead._

  
_“Shane?”_

  
_He’d only groaned, unable to lift his head to look at that face. It was better to hide behind the darkness of his eye lids._

  
_“Can you walk?”_

  
_With a little effort, he was able to shake his head, mumbling under his breath about “sleep”, and “dirt”, and “cold here”. He heard the sigh, not of anger or exhaustion, but more of laughter._

_“Yeah, I know, ground is cold, but so is everywhere else. And that’s not a good thing, Shane.”_

  
_There was a brief pause, then he heard the shift of clothes. Those hands came around him again, and he felt weightless as she lifted him up to sit. He opened his bleary eyes, saw the wobbly body of the woman he was steadily falling for, then all he saw was her back._

  
_And he suddenly became very weightless._

  
_Cursing, he grappled his arms around her, trying not to shriek and blush when his hand brushed a soft breast under a cotton shirt. After a few flailing seconds he’d settled with his palms on her shoulders, and her arms had hooked up his knees._

  
_“There we go,” she laughed, looking over her shoulder at him. “How’s that? Comfy?”_

  
_“Hey,” Shane protested, shifting to avoid any more awkward brushes. “Come one, you don’t have to do that. I can….I can’t be very….I’m heavy.”_

  
_She’d laughed, a beautiful sound that reminded him of church bells. “Trust me, Shane, sitting on my back like this, you weigh nothing at all!”_

  
_And she’d taken him home, trudging in the dark towards Marnie’s. They hadn’t spoken again, but he’d felt himself doze off, lulled by the warmth of her back and his face pressed against her hair. The scent tickled his nose and he’d fallen asleep to it before they’d even reached the front door._

  
Back in his present Shane was acutely aware he was wasting time, but he knew what he had to do. He might not be as strong as her, but he damn well knew that it was the best, and only option left. Carefully, he adjusted her body, brought it back around him. He heard her stir just once, a small sound of pain. He paused, looking over his shoulder worriedly. Saw she was still out cold. Now, he just needed to get her home.

  
Steeling himself, he maneuvered her arms over his shoulders, reached back to hook her legs into his arms. Across from him, Cal sat, silently watching his struggle. “Okay,” Shane whispered to the stoic animal, “Let’s do it.”

  
He lifted, swore when his knees screamed, and swore again when he felt her fall. He bent forward taking on her weight totally. Almost felt her slip over his head. 

  
“Yoba dammit.”

  
He kneeled again, winced as his knee scrapped the dirt. His hand whipped out, grasped a sliding Ash fully. Grabbed a full handful of her well-toned ass. His eyes widened, cheeks blazed, but he held tight. A stray unwanted thought crossed his mind that it was a very nice handful.

  
It took several minutes, at least twenty more curses to Yoba, and an enormously embarrassing amount of grabbing places he had no business grabbing while she was unconscious, but he had her fully situated on his back in a way he could finally stand without tipping over.

  
His body was sweaty from exertion, cheeks red from more than just that. His left knee felt swollen from where he slammed it, but he had her. Secure.  
“Okay,” he mumbled, catching Cal’s eyes again. “Let’s go.”

  
With that he trudged forward, back down to the farm.

  


He was able to kick open the door with some fancy maneuvers he felt even she’d be proud of. The animals had seemed to settle down, the sounds of the farm only the gentle sway of trees and crickets. It was almost as if they knew their master was home safe. It showed, he thought with a smile, how much she cared for her animals, her farm. If nothing else, he would have loved her for that.

  
When he entered the cabin, he was surprised to find it warm, despite the chill and lack of fire. It was dark inside, but there was just enough light from a small rock statue in the corner that glowed a light green. Probably something she’d found in the mines.

  
He stepped in, let the door swing shut behind him. He fumbled, running an arm against the wall, till it brushed a light switch. He gave a cheer of triumph when a lamp in the room turned on. It illuminated enough for him to partially see the home. It was small, smaller than Marnie’s but that was normal considering she lived alone. And yet, he noted it was homely. Walls were covered with paintings, statues littered shelves, rocks of all sizes, unusual items no doubt found while scavenging. The kitchen was tidy yet cluttered with supplies and pans. He admired the organized mess until he felt the weight of her grow as he stood still. Taking a deep breathe, he turned right and moved into the next room. The bedroom he realized. The room had a single fireplace, a small table with books, and a grand queen bed, covered in a floral quilt. A smiled at the large blue stuffed bear that dominated the corner beside the bed. It was, he realized, very much like her. He moved quickly and sat carefully against the bed. He loosened his hold, felt her slide against his back. This time he let her, steadying her so that she fell softly onto the mattress below.

  
When she was finally off, Shane stood up again, turned to look down at her. In the light from the other room he could see her better now. The blood that was streaked down her temple wasn’t fresh, thank Yoba, but she was covered in bruises. It made him inexplicably mad, to see that soft skin bruised purple and blue. He reached down, gently caressed her cheek, angled to see where the source of the wound was. A blow to her temple, he saw, and was pleased to see no new blood was dripping from it.

  
What was worrying, was that she wasn’t waking up. Maybe, he thought brushing strands of blonde hair away from her face, a concussion.

  
It took a moment, but he was able to get her more comfortably settled on the bed. He brought her hands up, saw the scraps and dried blood there as well. He need to make sure she was fully comfortable. And that meant he needed to clean her up.

  
He moved to the fireplace, began to build a fire to fight the chill in the room. As he watched it catch, he mused a moment.

  
He wasn’t used to tending people. No, that wasn’t entirely true. Sometimes, Shane remembered, he’d take care of Jaz. When she was too rough playing outside, a little clumsy in her adventures. But that was cut, a scrape at most, and all he’d needed was some water and bandage. This was a bit different. He stood, shaking off the flecks of wood from his hands. Steeling himself, he turned back to her, ready to begin.

  
He tugged off the boots first, scuffed and dirty from use. They came off, with some pulling, and he tossed each in a corner of the room. Her socks followed, which were soaked with fluid he’d rather not think about. He moved over to her side, unbuckled her sword belt, and with the grace of a man who’d never even held a sword, fumbled it over to a chest by the bedside. He tossed it inside, noting it was full of other weapons and tools of an adventurer. No wonder, he mused, she was such close friends with Abigail. With a decisive slam of the lid, he stood once again, glancing around to see if he could find anything useful. A door adjacent to the fireplace was cracked open. With a great deal of caution, he didn’t want to go somewhere he wasn’t allowed, he peeked inside. In the dark he saw the outline of the bathroom. Sighing in relief, he stepped inside, flicked on the light. It was small, modest, and like the rest of the house, homely. He looked around, and hoped he’d find what he needed here. He glanced over his shoulder at her sleeping form. 

Well, he thought, rolling up his metaphorical sleeves, let’s do this.

  
Of course, he mused, someone who frequently puts herself into physical harm would have a medical kit. Placed under the rather pristine sink, he’d found it. Upon opening, he’d discovered that almost everything he would need was inside. Bandages, and medicines, all kinds of herbs and salves, little bottles that would help with fatigue, and even some clean cloth to help clean up with. More stocked than any usual items at the Doctor’s clinic store. Everything an adventurer who placed herself in such dangers would need.

  
A small part of him could admit he was angry. Angry that she even wandered the mines in the first place. Didn’t quite understand why she did so, week after week. Perhaps that was just her way, always doing things unexpected. 

  
The sleepy town of Stardew Valley had changed the day she came.

  
Seated next her on the bed, he gently cleaned the blood and dirt from her face. 

  
Her face was serene now, skin no longer chilly. Shane felt that squeeze on his heart again as he gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face. It was bruised, the little wounds now more obvious that they were clean. He traced a finger over the wound on her temple, brushed her hair again, and without thinking, reached over to untie her braid. It was almost all out anyway and served no purpose. He also realized her couldn’t resist running his hand through the softness of it. It was gold like straw, but the texture was far from it. It reminded him of rabbit’s fur, soft to the touch, but not sleek. 

  
He noted, fingers tracing her cheekbones and chin, the tiny little cuts from past adventures, and working with rough materials. A farmer. She was that, down to her bone. He couldn’t picture her before Stardew Valley. Before she began turning the rundown Desmond farm into a prosperous piece of land that supplied a lot of the town.

  
She’d told him she’d worked in an office firm, day after day; the routine stale and almost dead. She’d told him she’d often wonder why she was alive. Had thought that she was lost before the letter from her Grandfather saved her life. Which was why, he knew then, she understood him more than anyone else could. He felt like that, working at Joja’s day after day. A hole of darkness that one could sink into if they weren’t careful. 

  
But, he knew, she had pulled herself out. Had thrown away her life before, to change everything about herself now. A woman, who’d only ever watered a potted plant, suddenly in charge of running a farm. 

_She’d laughed when she’d said that, he remembered. A belly laugh that made him laugh in return. She’d done it though, he’d told her._   
_Her eyes had met his, the light of her laughter still reflected in them. “Yeah,” she said at length, “I guess I did.”_

  
By herself.

  
Shane pulled his hand away, his fingers tingling from where they had rested on her lips. He felt his cheeks heat in shame. Yes, he mused, she’d done it all by herself.  
Rebuilt her life, became a well-known, and well-loved member of the small community. All by herself. 

  
What had he ever done? Shane stood up quickly, feeling his breath clog in his throat, choking him. He had no right. No right to love her, someone so strong and independent. Beautiful. Smart. He was the exact opposite. 

  
He stepped away from the bed. He couldn’t stay when she awoke. Didn’t want her to know he’d been here. With something he knew was akin to panic he turned around, and began to leave. 

  
“Shane?”

  
He froze. It seemed a second lengthened to a minute and beyond. Shane couldn’t bring himself to turn, to look at those crystal eyes again. 

  
“Shane.”

  
It wasn’t a question this time, she was awake enough to see him. With great effort, he made himself turn. “Ash,” he said, throat tight. “You’re awake. That’s good.”

  
She nodded, shifting slowly, still weary in her movements. A hand came up to gently touch her forehead. 

  
“What-“

  
“You were collapsed. On the road,” he continued lamely, staying a safe distance away. If he got any closer, he wasn’t sure how he would react. “It looked like you maybe got hurt, in the mines.”

  
“I was,” she began, sitting up gently. “down below, trying to get some extra gems, maybe see what I could sell. But, I wasn’t paying attention -distracted I guess- and next thing I knew I was falling. My head, it hit something,” she finished and reached up to tap her temple softly. “Must have been a rock.” 

  
“Do you remember leaving? You were pretty far on the trail when I found you.”

  
“It’s a blur,” Ash sighed, “It was my fault, I suppose.”

  
“Your fault? That you got attacked?”

  
“I’m usually better at it, I swear.” A sheepish smile graced her lips.

  
“I was so focused on keeping an eye on the time, I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings.” She laughed gently. “That’s what I get for turning my back on those damn slimes.”

  
‘Keeping an eye-‘, but he couldn’t finish the thought. A brief moment of realization caused him to tense. He felt his hands fist, willed them to unclasp, to relax. 

  
He took a deep breath, hoped the exhale would let his fingers untense, and loosen. He had to swallow before he could speak further. “You were distracted keeping an eye on the time.”

  
She seemed unaware of his state, taking stock of her ripped pants, the newly cleaned cuts on her arms. “I didn’t want to go much further than 8:30 or so. I guess I was worried I’d be late. I have a bad habit of losing track of time down there, as you know?”

  
She looked at him then, laughter in those gorgeous eyes. But as soon as they met his, the light faded.

  
“Why?” Shane whispered, unsure of his voice.

  
“Shane?”

  
She was injured because of him. The thought spiraled in his brain, echoing till it was all he could hear. Because of their stupid time together. He could remember his worry and expectation earlier that evening, wondering where she was, why she was late. How she’d always be there. Was it for him?

  
“I’m not worth that,” he mumbled. He could feel her shift to stand up. He’s wasn’t sure he could meet her eyes again. “I’m not worth you getting hurt. Not like that. What would have happened, if you hadn’t gotten out?”

  
He knew she was standing now, gripping the post at the headboard of her bed for stability, still shaky on her feet. “Shane-“

  
“If I hadn’t found you,” he interrupted, “You could have been left there all night. That back road, hardly anyone except you uses it. I wouldn’t have….it’s only because I was lucky, lucky to be out so late, worried about-“ He cut himself off at the sound of her movement.

  
“No!” he emphasized with a step back from her advancing. “Yoba dammit, I was so scared. When I saw you there, I couldn’t….my heart stopped. I thought that you were…”  


As that anger, that frustration began to steam out, as it often did, sadness took over, the nagging pain in his chest from stress, from panic, so he could only reach up to clutch at it through his sweatshirt. “I couldn’t live if you were...” He couldn’t form the thought. The idea pained him more than anything else in the world.

  
Neither spoke, the sound of the nighttime outside battling against his tiny panicked breaths. Somewhere he heard the sound of Cal, shifting in his sleep, the fridge humming softly. Sounds of a safe home. He had to remember, she was safe. But, no matter how comforting that thought was, it circled back and all he could hear was that voice. Whispering that because of him, she might not have been.

  
“And I might not be here without you,” Ash whispered.

  
He looked up, surprised to find he’d said his dark thoughts out loud. She was standing there, hand gripping the bed post to keep herself off her sore leg, white tank top, ripped and stained pants, her hair loose, long and curled to halo her face in the fire light. He can only stare at her, caught in those sky-blue eyes. 

  
“You carried me back, right?” 

  
He shook his head slowly, but she continued before he could answer. “You brought me here, took care of me, saved me.”

  
“No…I didn’t-“

  
“Do you know why I was distracted? Why I was so adamant to make it back on time? Because I wanted to see you. No, Shane, I needed to see you. I treasure any day I get to see you. I think about the time I can spend, sitting next to you, listening to you, talking to you.”

  
He watched as she pushed herself forward, stepping towards him. He was paralyzed by her. He could feel his heart thunder against his ribcage, his breath quickening as she stepped closer and closer. The smell of her surrounded him, the heat of her. He could feel her everywhere. 

  
She looked at him; gaze even with his. It was loving. Oh Yoba, he hoped it was loving.

  
His fingers twitched, the urge to pull her to him overpowering, intense, but he couldn’t. He was barely keeping himself in check, holding on to the line that wanted to snap. To grab ahold of her and never let go again. 

  
Ash reached up, cupping his jaw in her hands, gazing at him. Her thumbs brushed over his cheeks, wiping away tears he didn’t know he’d shed. He would have felt humiliated at the thought, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to think of anything but her.

  
“Ash,” he choked out.

  
“Shane,” she whispered back. “All the time I’ve spent with you has made it pretty clear that I want to be with you. I just wonder,” she moved in that last inch, her lips touching his so slightly. Fingers clenched, body aching. The light pressure left him bereft as she pulled back just enough to speak.

  
“Do you want me back?”

  
Shane cursed, the control he’d kept snapping in half like fishing line. He launched forward, lips crashing against lips. It was the taste more than the sound of her gasp he devoured, then the moan of pleasure as she met him. His hands rushed forwards, grasping at her, pulling her into him. The line of her body was hot, more than he could have ever have imagined, even in his darkest of dreams. She matched him though, hands coming up to tangle in his hair, as he grasped her, trying to feel all of her at once. He angled his head, just slightly, and delved deeper into the feeling of her. Gathered her closer to him, in gratitude, in seduction. She tasted incredible. Apples, he mused, she did indeed taste like apples. And so much more. Like sunlight, and autumn rains, spring flowers, and the kiss of crisp winter. She was everything. He pulled back, stared at her clouded eyes, and found he couldn’t say the words anymore than he could breath.

  
“Ash,” he murmured, brushing his lips against her again, unable to stop himself. Her murmur of approval only fueled him on. He trailed his lips, over her cheeks, down her chin, following the long line down her neck. Her fingers delved tighter into his hair, tugging the knotted locks, brushing them down. He found the junction on her shoulder and neck tasted like honey to him. Her scent strongest there, where the dip of her clavicle fell. 

  
Her fingers came down to dig into his shoulders. “Shane, I need,” but she shuddered when he gently suckled a spot on her pulse point.

  
She reached down, tugging at the hem of his sweatshirt, and he knew what she wanted. And he couldn’t keep himself from wanting it too. He grabbed the hem, pulling it up and over. It tangled briefly over his head, but with her help, he was able to toss it off, thrown forgotten in a dark corner of the room. He came back again, kissing her once more, chasing that irresistible taste. He needed so much, could never get enough of it. Their bodies were flush enough that he felt her grab her own tank, felt her pull it up. They separated only long enough to discard it as well. 

  
He pulled apart just enough then to rest his forehead on hers, careful of the bandage there. He looked down, and groaned at the sight. She wore a slim white bra, a sports bra if he guessed correct. It was modest, but cut low enough that he could just make out what was underneath. Muscles, trimmed from hours of labor, the tanned skin soft to the touch. He knew right then, he had to see all of her. 

  
Her hands gripped at his back, tangled in his t-shirt, a ratty old graphic tee he’d put on last minute after work. It was sweaty from carrying her, and worn at the sleeves.   
“Off,” he heard her say, tugging at it in a desperate plea, “Shane, take it off. Want to see you.”

  
He felt the twinge from the back of his mind, that initial twinge of embarrassment. She was so beautiful, body molded to a form that fit with her occupation, her lifestyle. He still carried a beer gut, soft in the middle, he ate pizza too often, he never worked out. Compared to her, his body….he couldn’t.

  
“No I just-“ he began but she cut him off with a kiss, felt her hands pull the shirt up and up. He panicked felt his breath gasp out against hers, moved one hand away from her to grip the shirt, keep it in place.

  
“Shane,” she mumbled, frustration just a wisp in her arousal. In his head, Shane knew he was being ridiculous. Here they were, on their way to a night he had dreamed of for months, and he couldn’t do it.

  
He pulled away, took a step back from her, but couldn’t bring himself to let go on her arm.

  
“I’m not,” he had to pause and breathed in through his nose. He was shaking, arousal and adrenaline causing him to sweat. “Can we, just keep it on?” 

  
There was a moment he worried it was gone. All that tension would disappear, and she’d leave, and never speak to him again. All because he was an idiot, who couldn’t get over his own insecurities. But when he had the courage to glance at her reaction, he was surprised to find her thinking. 

  
He was even more surprised when she smiled gently and came to his arms again, kissed him. He would have sunk in again, relieved to be forgiven, when she pulled away.  
He watched her turn, and begin to leave the room. His heart stopped, and he felt cold seep in. 

  
“Ash, I-“

  
The lights flicked off. Plunging the whole of the room into a low darkness. The only light was a low glow from the mysterious stone. It bounced shadows off the walls, but left most of Shane’s vision blurred. He saw her, dull to his senses now, walk back, knew she was smiling still.

  
“Is that okay?”

  
He could have wept. But only nodded instead, then chuckling, said it out loud so she could hear.

  
“Good. Now,” she continued and yanked her bra off. “I would very much like to have sex with you, Shane.”

  
If he’d had been a lesser man, he would have fainted. Well, no, he almost did, but he thought better of it. For one instant he couldn’t bridge the small distance that was between them. When he finally pried his gaze from her body-so beautiful, so wonderful-he glanced up at her. 

  
He was taken aback by the sudden shyness that shaped her features. Those sky blue eyes didn’t look at him, and the longer it seemed, the more her face burst red as a tomato. He wanted to take a bite out of that redness. 

  
“Shane?” she whispered, confusion evident in her voice. 

  
Shane rushed forward, grabbing her into his arms, and angled her face to meet his, lips colliding with lips. The small clink of teeth made him adjust, gentle the kiss. Her arms came around him again, bringing him close. He groaned, cursing that he couldn’t feel her fully over the cloth that still covered his chest.

  
This time though, when her quick hands grabbed and yanked the offending article up and over, he did not protest. When it was off, he pulled her closer, unable to stand not feeling her flush against him.

  
He was aware of her hands reaching down gripping his hips. Felt her fingers dig into the soft flesh there, and when he made to pull them away, he was surprised to hear her whimper in arousal.

  
She was feeling him, and enjoying it. Her hands did not shy from his pudgy middle, in fact, they grew bolder, trailing up and up to cup at his chest, then shoulders.  
“Shane,” she whispered, “you’re so beautiful.”

  
He wanted to argue, but those adventurous, calloused hands shifted from his shoulders down his arms.

  
Suddenly, he felt her hands grab at his, pull them up, guide them to her breasts. His breath choked, but instead of filling his palms, she led him to the hem of her bra.  
He felt her soft chuckle when he swallowed audibly.

  
“Please, Shane.”

  
Fingers curled around the cotton material, he slowly pulled it up. Shane guided the bra over her shoulders, his eyes not leaving hers, even when it was off completely, and thrown to join the other useless articles.

  
When he didn’t dare look down, or move on, she took the initiative herself, grabbing him tightly to bring him into her. Shane exhaled shakily at the first touch of skin against skin, glancing down only when her eyes closed and she groaned. 

  
Hungry for her, unable to keep himself in check any longer, Shane swooped down and fused his mouth to hers. With some haste, and clumsy desperation she began stepping backwards until the back of her knees hit the soft bed. He heard her hiss gently as she fell, tugging them both downwards. With a speed he didn’t realize he’d possessed, the only thing that kept him from squishing her were his arms coming down to cage around her. 

  
“Ash? Are you okay?”

  
“Yeah,” she said gently, an embarrassed giggle escaping her. “Just hit a sore spot, that’s all. We’re good.”

  
She looked up at him, theirs eyes meeting. The moment called for their gaze, despite the heat and intensity just displayed between them.

  
He wanted to convey it all. All the love he felt for her, the love he no longer wanted to lock away in shadows. 

  
Tumbled in bed as they were, prepared to bring each other pleasure and comfort that he suspected they both had been missing for some time, he didn’t know how to say the words. It seemed though, she did.

  
“I want you to go all the way, Shane.”

  
His breath hitched. 

  
Her arms tightened around his shoulders, and-carefully-her legs came up to encircled his waist. The motion brought to light the one thing he had tried not to think too much about.

  
He was hard as a rock. Ash seemed not to convey any potential anxiety or embarrassment as she pulled him closer to her.

  
The heat he felt, even between thick articles of clothing drove him to near madness.

  
“Ash,” he began. “Are you sure?”

  
“I am sure.”

  
Her fingers reached up, gently brushed his hair away from his forehead. “But,” she whispered, punctuating the sweetness with kisses that tickled against his bristled cheek. “If you need it, we can stop. I don’t want you to do more than you are comfortable with. Let me know, Shane. Okay?”

  
Yoba. He loved her.

  
Tears once again gathered at his eyes, but he shook them away. She was looking at him, wrapped so tightly around him, near him so intimately she could see all of him. Every flaw, every roll of weight he couldn’t shake, every crease, every blemish. And she was worried about his mental state.

  
He kissed her again, relishing her surprised gasp once more, the small chuckle of relief and flirtation she let out. 

  
The voice in his head, the one that always made him second guess every action he took, was silent.

  
He ripped himself away from her delectable mouth, leaving a light nip behind on her lips. He leaned back, reached down and began to divulge her of her last offending articles of clothing.

  
It was a struggle to yank those torn beaten pants off, but he managed, even laughed when she bounced against the bed as they were released. He was laughing during sex? The concept was new and riveting.

  
When she pushed her self up, leaning casually on her elbows, he was acutely aware that he was now standing over her, as she lay spread before him on the bed. Naked, glorious, so utterly beautiful.

  
He said so, staring at her as if Yoba had granted him the truest gift of all. And maybe he had.

  
She blushed, giggling slightly.

  
“Come on, I want to see you too. Please, Shane, I need you in me.”

  
He shuddered, felt himself harden even more, if that were possible. When he still didn’t move, so taken in by her, she huffed in mock annoyance.

  
“Alright, I’ll do it myself.”

  
The words conjured images in his head that did the most wonderful things to his body. However, it seemed Ash had other plans. She pushed herself up, reaching for the button of his jeans. Before he could even protest, she had them undone, and unzipped.

  
She tugged them down, maneuvering the material around the bulge that stood prominently under his underwear. He felt embarrassment at the obvious wet stain that grew just from where his tip peeked over.

  
Ash moaned lowly, reaching up to peel those back as well. He erection revealed, he watched her as she stared unabashedly at his manhood. She licked her lips hungrily, and he could only groan painfully, shutting his eyes against the sight.

  
His distraction seemed the perfect opportunity, as Ash shed his clothes further, letting them pool around his ankles. Her fingers danced up again, teasing touches against his own fingers as they hung useless at his side. They tickled a path over his thighs, his hips, nails scratching against him, leaving red marks against the shadowed bones of his pelvis, before finally, blissfully taking his cock in hand.

  
He cursed, his body jolting like electricity was coursing through him. 

  
It built as she took him and gently, so gently, began to move. Then, she leaned forward.

  
He groaned, unable to look as his head fell back. It was almost too much, too soon. And he had to focus entirely on not letting himself go. That was the last thing he wanted. Her attention was marvelous. Being touched like this was not new, but he’d never quite felt as connected to the act as he did now.

  
Risking it, he made himself open his eyes. She wasn’t going too fast, and wasn’t swallowing him so deep he might choke her. She knew her limits. But even those limits brought fire to his belly, and he felt his stomach and thighs tremble with the effort to keep from thrusting forward into that heat that surrounded him.

  
“Ash,” he whispered, and hesitantly reached his hand to comb into her hair. He himself choked on a groan, as she hummed in pleasure. Okay, he mussed, apparently, she liked that. He tangled his fingers in further, aware of how hard he was tugging. Almost petting really as opposed to leading. She hummed again, her fingers dancing over his thighs.   
The heat began to spread further, and he knew he was way too close.

  
“Stop, Ash,” he said, gently tugging her head off him. She came away, licking her lips, and Yoba if that didn’t test his willpower.

  
“Shane?”

  
“I want you.”

  
“Yes,” she answered, smirking up at him. “I see that.”

  
He huffed a laugh, kneeled down to be level with her on the bed. Bringing her into a hug so tight, he half worried he’d crush her. Her skin was as hot as his. 

  
“I mean, I want to be in you.”

  
“Oh, well, why didn’t you say so, silly.”

  
She smiled while she said it, laughter in her eyes. She kissed him again, tugging him back until he was once again on top of her.

  
It took some rearranging, some soft sighs, but finally he crouched over her, arms by her head, as they spent time to stoke the heat again with their kisses.

  
As he pulled away, he felt her trail lips over his neck, chest. “I need,” he groaned, clutching at her hips, unable to stop himself from thrusting against her. “Protection.”

  
“Drawer,” she mumbled. She reached out blindly, and he took the opportunity to nuzzle his face against her breasts. Delicately nip a the pink tips that called to him. She hissed, bringing one hand to tangle in his hair again. Tug at him impatiently.

  
He got why she liked it so much.

  
He saw her from the corner of his eye pull open a bedside drawer, curse as she shuffled around. Oh Yoba, he thought, maybe she didn’t-

  
“Ah-ha,” she exclaimed triumphantly, swinging herself to face him again, cheerily shoving a condom in his face. “Knew I kept it for a reason.”

  
“Huh?”

  
“Nevermind. Now, if you would be so kind. I feel like I’m about to burst, and I want you in me yesterday, Shane.”

  
Again, really, Shane couldn’t fault that logic. And simply kissed her again.

  
It took some time, and a bit of nervous anxiety rearing its head, but he got the condom on. She’d had to help him when his hands shook so badly, he was afraid he’d tear it. Patient smiles, soft kisses, gentle fingers that burned against him.

  
Now he was sitting here, eyes focused on her center. Wet, and soft, so perfect. He held himself in hand, pumping only slightly when he thought he might go soft.   
Ash, his farmer, his rock, simply rubbed his shoulders, arms, not pushing him further.

  
“We can stop.”

  
“No, I…I don’t want to stop, but…”

  
No sound, but his heavy breathing, the soft crackle of fire, the stir of crickets through the cracked window.

  
“I’m afraid.”

  
Those sky-blue eyes, hidden in the dark, but still visible to him from so close, gave only a sign of patience. Waiting for him to continue, to say if he was ready.  
“I’m afraid you won’t enjoy it.”

  
“Shane,” she whispered, stretching up to kiss his temple, the hollow of his jaw, the curve of his lip. “That couldn’t ever be possible.”

  
The shadows of his mind brushed against him, but he shook them away. If he just-

  
Flaring with dumb courage, he guided himself inside her. 

  
The tight heat shot shivers up his spine. The sounds of groaning were so loud, they echoed in his ears. A combination of his and hers, as he slowly- so damn slowly- pushed into her. 

  
He whimpered, clutching at the pillow under her, tangling strands of her blonde hair with it. He mumbled her name, over and over, chanting it. 

  
Then he was inside her, fully and completely.

  
Fingers clutched at his shoulders tightened, nails digging into his flesh. His body trembled with an effort to not move, to not hurt her. She hissed, groaned against him, burying her face into his neck.

  
“Am I hurting you? Ash am I-“

  
She mumbled.

  
“What?”

  
“I said,” she gritted out, “Move. Please, for the love of Yoba, move.”

  
So, he did.

  
At first, he was slow, careful. The anxiety was too much a voice constantly saying he wasn’t doing well, couldn’t pleasure her, but after a time, it dulled until all her heard in his head was the noise she made. They punched out of her with every thrust, little gasps and whimpers, words of “please” and “so good”. Curses mumbled between hurried kisses against lips, skin, and hair.

  
He wasn’t fully aware that he sounded just as desperate. All that mattered was her, and the heat building between them.

  
At one point, he felt her tighten around him. Back arching, and her thighs tensed around his hips. Did she-? 

  
Efforts renewed, he wrapped his arms around her middle, planting her whole body against her. The position shallowed his thrusts, made it harder to reach deeper, but he couldn’t control himself against the pounding in his chest. The weeping that grew as he felt himself spiral further and further to a peak, he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from leaping off.

  
Not this time. Because he knew, at the bottom, she would catch him in her arms.

  
“Ash,” he wept in her ear. “I love you.”

  
She sobbed, and once again he felt her climax. It took him little more to follow her.

“Were you ever in love?”

  
Shane nearly choked on his spit. “What?!”

  
She was tossing handfuls of corn to the pecking chickens around her. Eyes focused on the task instead of the man casually holding a blue chicken beside her.  
He’d gone over to help tend the sick hen, one of his blue chickens. His pride and joy. 

  
She always came to him when her flock seemed in need of an expert. He felt flattered she thought so highly of him. It’d been quiet, as he nursed the poor dear back to something akin to healthy.

  
This, had come out of nowhere.

  
_“Have you ever been in love?”_

  
_“I- well that is- um…”_

  
_“I have. At least, I thought it was love.”_

  
_She’d pulled her hair into a high bun today, and the heat of the sun was allowing tiny wisps of curls to stick to her neck. He wanted to run a finger over them._   
_“Shane?”_

  
_“Uh, oh, um. I’m listening.”_

  
_She was looking at him now, eyes questioning him. He turned his own gaze back to the hen in his arms._

  
_“You thought?”_

  
_She patted her hands clean, and wandered over to him. “Yeah, this girl I dated, back in the city.”_

  
_He nodded, waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, he finally looked up at her. She was staring at his hands, watching them administer some medicine from Marnie._

  
_“But?”_

  
_“Turns out, love and lust aren’t quite the same thing. What I thought had been love, well turns out it was just a spark. After a time, the spark was just gone. But then again,” she continued, taking in the farm around her. “Before this, most of the spark of my life had vanished.”_

  
_“Ash,” he mumbled, not sure how to proceed with that thought. They didn’t often talk about her life before. Or really delve into her feelings overall. It’d always been about his._   
_Before he could think of anything to say, she just shook her head, smiling at him. It didn’t quite reach her eyes._

  
_“Don’t listen to me, Shane, just worried about Jennine here. And Bonnette is pregnant so that’s been a stress. Just have too many thoughts in my head today.”_

  
_He let the hen go, standing as she walked over to the barn. He hadn’t been sure why but the shape of her back, watching it as she’d walked away made him unbearably sad. He wanted to hug her, tell her he loved her. That what he felt wasn’t some spark, but an avalanche of emotions, fear, love, happiness, frustration._

  
_She stepped into the door, and he could hear her coo to the chickens._

  
_He had said nothing. And regretted._

The sunshine was dull against his closed eyes, as Shane awoke. Confusion sat in his sleep addled brain. His bed faced to the west, why was the sun shining so early. Or maybe he’d slept the whole day, and it was evening. Not unusual, for him, expect lately he’d been better about getting up early, not sleeping in. Then why…

  
The scent of apples, slightly of cinnamon. The sheets soft, not worn like his. 

  
Ash.

  
He bolted upright, panic setting in. It took him another moment to orient himself fully. He was in Ash’s house, in her bedroom, on her bed.

  
Naked on her bed.

  
Yoba, he remembered now. They’d…

  
He looked around, the light from the sun had been peeking through a sliver of the bright yellow curtains across from him. The room was empty, beside him the bed was as well.  
He ran a hand over the rumpled side, felt the cool sheets. 

  
She’s left. She’d left him, alone. The bile rose in his throat, the edge of dark creeping in his vision, as he stared at the empty spot on the bed. Of course. What did he think would happen? That’d he’d wake up beside her, warm and soft from sleep and sex. That she’d open her beautiful blue eyes, and smile at him.

  
He didn’t deserve that kind of happiness.

  
It had been a spark. For her, he heard in his head, it’s only a spark. No, he tried to argue against the voice, himself. Maybe she’d just-  
She’d left him. Because he couldn’t be what she deserved.

  
Throat constricting, he felt the tears gather at the corners of his eyes, the whole of his gut roll within him. He wanted to puke, he wanted to cry, he wanted to scream. He wanted to wallow in misery.

  
The front door opened, and he heard the sound of boots dropping on wood.

  
He panicked, leaping from the bed in a rush, and tripped. The sheets had tangled against his legs, trapping him in the inevitable.

  
Shane fell to the floor, slamming against wood. The pain was dull, the adrenaline of fear keeping him from feeling anything. However, the sound of his body cracking the floor was heard.

  
“Shane!?”

  
Ash burst through the doorway, running towards. 

  
“Shane, are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened?”

  
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  
“Shane, it’s okay. Are you okay? Here, let me see-“

  
“NO!”

  
He scrambled back from her hands, as they came to hold him. Why would she try to help him? Didn’t she want him gone? Why did she look shocked?  
“What-“ she began, but he interrupted her. 

  
“I’ll go, please, I didn’t mean-“

  
“Go?”

  
“You want me out right. But since it’s your place, you needed to leave first. But I’m still here and I get it, I just woke up so I didn’t know that-“

  
“Stop.”

  
He cut himself off, saw she wasn’t shocked, or worried anymore. She was understanding. The look in her eyes. He’d seen it before. On the cliffs, in the rain.

  
“I had to take care of the animals.”

  
“Huh?”

  
Dropping to sit fully on the ground, she continued, chuckling. “It’s after 8, Shane. I woke to them practically screaming at me through the window. I’ve never slept in past 6, not in years. I couldn’t tell if they were worried or irritated.”

  
“The animals,” he mumbled, feeling his face flush in shame. Of course. She was a farmer, a professional, and he knew having lived with Marnie for so long, any farmer worth their salt was up before the crack of dawn to tend to their livestock, their crops. 

  
“I had hoped to be back before you woke,” she said, cautiously moving to sit beside him, back against the bed. “Make some blueberry pancakes. They’re finally ripe enough for eating. Sadly, it looks like Milly needed tending to. She’d cut her haunch on a studded nail. Took longer to patch her up then I thought.”

  
He couldn’t speak. He felt….well, ashamed was the only thing he could think of. He’d really thought that she, a woman who went out of her way to help the people of Stardew Valley. Who talked him from a cliff, and carried him to Harvey’s clinic and sat with him all night? Until the rain had stopped, and he’d been able to go home. A woman who made it a point to visit him every Friday at the exact same time, all because it made him happy. Made her happy.

  
“You thought I’d left,” she commented, fingers running over the blanket still tied around his legs.

  
It took him longer than he’d like to speak, pulling his hand out from underneath the blanket and carefully brushing against hers.

  
“It hurt. I remembered how you used to talk about being in love. How to you, it had been just a spark, and I don’t know….all I could think of was you finding out I was-“  
“Shane,” she interrupted again, the same tone as before. He could only silence himself. “Last night, you said something.”

  
He did. He remembered.

  
“Can you, say it again? For me. So, I can answer properly this time.”

  
His heart was thudding against his chest, and it hurt so much. They could only stare at each other, and he was lost in her eyes, in the smile that crept on her face. The red tomato blush he just wanted to nibble on, the hickey that peeked just beneath the collar of, what he now saw was his sweatshirt. No, he mussed again. This was no spark.  
This was the early dawn peeking through the curtains. The warmth of a back pressed against a chest. The sharing of breath in the cool of the autumn night. The heat of skin that glistens with work worn sweat. The sight of someone you love walking through the door at the end of the day.

  
This was love.

  
Hands clasped, he leaned forward and brought his lips to hers, light and sweet. Apples and cinnamon, nights and days. The voices inside dulled to a mumble, and he could speak without thinking for once.

  
“I love you.”

  
Her drawn breath took from his and she smiled so radiantly, he almost had to shut his eyes against it. Her fingers tightened against the blanket, and she leaned forward to kiss at the hollow of his jaw, his ear.

  
“I love you too, Shane.”

  
It was a relief against a weight that had latched on his chest for almost two years. Now, he smiled, matching the light that poured from inside him.

  
“So,” he whispered, “Blueberry pancakes?”

  
Her laughter was the sweetest sound he’d love to hear always.

  



End file.
